


The Kinky Box

by widgenstain



Series: Tumblr scribbles [5]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Airplane Sex, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Charles, Bottom Erik Lehnsherr, Bottom Logan, Breeding, Cage Fights, Crack, Felching, Female Erik, Ficlet Collection, Fix-It, Fuck Or Die, Genderbending, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, M/M, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Realistic, Riding, Sad, Telepathic Sex, Vaginal Sex, old charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widgenstain/pseuds/widgenstain
Summary: All the works that are far too sexy for my other ficlet collection!Chapter 1: Cherik, Felching Porn without PlotChapter 2: Xavierine, Charles rides LoganChapter 3: Logurt, what is meant to be a cage fight turns into matingChapter 4: Cherik, Erik's "dragon" needs a doctorChapter 5: Cherik, genderbent mile high club





	1. Cherik Felching Pwp

This would not have happened six months ago. This couldn’t have happened when they met, and it most certainly wouldn’t have happened when Charles had finally acted on the mutual attraction that had been hanging in the stale cigarette air of their dodgy motel rooms. Back then, Erik had gone with him and even decided the course of their encounters, but the experiences themselves had been utilitarian at best. Charles had felt the incredible need running through Erik, desires deep and vivid, but only had been faced with Erik’s complete inability to express them. 

The anger at the people who had shaped this gorgeous man the way they did had burned almost as hot in Charles as in Erik. Who could leave a proud and intelligent man stunted like this? What would do this?

Charles was patient though, a virtue he was very proud of, and with care and diligence, he had worked his way past the layers of frustration and self-hatred. 

There was and always would be conflict between them, Erik had forced through his will and killed Shaw, they would never agree on everything, not even close, but Erik had stayed and slowly, ever so slowly, he learned to let go.

In return for his efforts, Charles’ rewards were plentiful. He would have been happy with much smaller successes; he would have been happy with how Erik grew to voice his many more tender emotions in day-to-day life alone. But Erik had exceeded his wildest expectations. Particularly in the bedroom. Gone was the utility and the awkwardness, instead Charles shared his bed with a sensual and curious creature who was ready to try and enjoy life with a fierce and insatiable hunger.

So, Charles surmised, it was his attentiveness and love that had eventually brought them into this… position. He smiled at the thought as Erik grabbed the wooden headboard tighter and lifted himself off Charles again.

He was crouched over him, eyes closed, mouth opened just a bit, the tip of his tongue played at his lower lip and Charles desperately wanted to chase it again, kiss him hard and suck all those sweet, concentrated little sounds right out of him. Erik’s thighs were tense under Charles’ fingers, they kept his weight off Charles, but he moved steadily and without any sign of weakness. There was so much strength in those fit runners’ legs that lead up to the most perfect, tight ass Charles had ever had the pleasure of fucking.

The sculpted little buttocks fit the size of his palms exactly and Erik moaned when Charles grabbed and squeezed them. He kneaded them, wanted to tear them, stretch them, to make Erik feel the penetration even more and he took Erik’s low moan as encouragement to do so. Erik let him go deeper, the delicious hot clench of his body opening up further and for a moment - when he looked down his own body and saw how Erik minutely swallowed him up - Charles’ thoughts became blank; his body a tool for Erik to use.

Erik sighed, a shiver ran through him and he leaned back a little to let Charles sink in further while he slid his hands down Charles smooth chest to steady himself. His eyes opened for a second, searching Charles’, but they glazed over with lust and were filled with a bliss that also curled his mouth in an entranced smile. He closed his eyes again and let his head roll back, squeezed Charles’ tip with every rise and let him sink deep into the vice of his body with every downward stroke. Charles thanked each and every entity in the universe for this sweet glide, for this glorious man, who deserved only the best things in the world and beyond.

In fact, he should do something, at least touch Erik’s cock that stood up hard against his body - beautiful, long and cut, dripping fluid from its tip with every stroke and Charles licked his lips unconsciously, almost tasting it again, but Erik brushed his hand away when he reached for it. It was

“Not fair”

Charles groaned, he pushed his hips up to meet Erik quicker, to fuck him, but the bastard just snickered and leaned back even further. This was going to be all on his terms, no matter how hard Charles tried. Erik was fully seated in Charles’ lap, weight on his arms flexing behind his back while he steadily ground on the hot cock inside of him. Charles huffed, he couldn’t take his eyes of the narrow hips undulating on top of him, the lean, sweaty muscles of Erik’s stomach working to milk pleasure out of Charles like they were made for this.

However, with every move, with every passing second it became clearer that Erik was equally affected. What could have been interpreted as a show for Charles in the beginning, turned into a chase for his own completion. Erik’s seductive rhythm faltered; his movements became abortive grinds that served the only purpose of pushing Charles’ cock against that spot inside him repeatedly and Charles let out a long groan as Erik’s face contorted in almost pained ecstasy. The selfishness of it made Charles tremble and his toes curled upwards. This was the man he loved, the man who had hesitantly asked him for a blowjob only months ago, the same man who now was fucking himself on Charles as if he owned his dick, like he was just a dildo Erik could fuck himself on, nothing but a thick c-

“Oh-oh shhhhit, Eri…kh I…!”

He grabbed Erik’s waist tight but couldn’ stop it. Charles gasped, scrunched his eyes shut and with a deep, full-body tremor he came inside Erik’s ass. His orgasm came as quickly as it was powerful and it felt like minutes until the delicious spasms in lower belly and cock stopped and gave way to the most magnificent, fuzzy and warm coital haze.

This was perfect, the world was perfect, everything was just hot wetness and love. Nothing should ever change, so of course it immediately did and it almost hurt when the heat around his cock abruptly vanished. Erik had lifted himself off and only now Charles realised through blinking, dazed eyes, that Erik was still hard of course.

Before a proper thought or reaction could form in his head though, Erik had scrambled up the bed, turned around, sunken his fingers in Charles hair and pulled his head up to his ass.

“You’re not finished here.”

Charles’ scalp stung but the firm buttocks were only inches away from his face and no pain could ever distract him from that sight. There was a little hesitance wafting off Erik; not because he was ashamed of his words, but he wondered if Charles would agree to do this, or if he had maybe asked for something too vulgar. Charles only grinned sloppily, spread the cheeks and licked up the first escaping drop of his come in a long stripe from the back of Erik’s balls up to his reddened and smeared hole.

Erik’s moan was part relief, part deeply felt arousal. He fell forward onto his forearms and made himself accessible to Charles, so very open and vulnerable. He returned the control to Charles’ experience and braced himself for what was given to him. Charles groaned and tried not to be too turned on by this or too greedy, but he quickly failed. He sat up, pushed Erik forward and plunged in. He encouraged Erik’s groans with grunts that escaped from a primal part of his soul and that did not want to be contained anymore.

Erik was so loose, it was obscene, he was filled to the brim with Charles’ cum and Charles sucked it out of him voraciously. The taste was a surreal mix of Erik, Vaseline and semen; yes, it was dirty, but Charles loved every second of it and he would never have hesitated to do this. He pushed that thought at Erik while he keenly fucked him with his tongue, chasing what his pursed lips couldn’t reach. His thumb pushed against Erik’s perineum, stimulating his prostate from the outside.

Erik buried his head between his arms and cursed. Charles not too gently grabbed his heavy balls, let them roll in his hand while he insistently swirled his tongue over Erik’s stretched rim. The overstimulation forces a sob out of him and Erik tried to reach back and finish himself off, but this time Charles stopped his hand and lightly ran his own fingertips down Erik’s shaft instead. He held the red tip in the palm of his hand, not really touching it but close enough to let Erik feel his body’s heat and a promise of tightness. Precome gathered in his hand and Erik whimpered, trying to get some friction but also to screw himself back onto Charles’ tongue, that dove into him impossible deep and felt so wrong yet so right. Charles grinned as well as he could and decided to have mercy on him. 

He pulled back, ignored Erik’s whine and unceremoniously pushed two fingers into Erik’s hot and saliva covered hole. The bigger, more precise pressure on his prostate killed the last bit of Erik’s coherence. He ground back mindlessly, moaned, and almost didn’t notice the sturdy hand that closed around his cock and with a few quick, practiced strokes, drew his orgasm out of him. He came with one quick loud shout, spurting hot come on Charles still flushed legs up messing up their sheets for good.

“Did you enjoy yourself, my darling?”

Charles, a grin in his voice, couldn’t but ask since the boneless heap on his lower body half hadn’t moved for quite a while and he started to wonder if they would sleep like this.

“Hffff. Did I enjoy myself, he asks.”

Erik rolled off to his side and looked up at Charles from underneath heavy lids.

“Yes, of course I did, you smug bastard.”

He reached up to Charles’ crotch, patted his spent cock like a beloved pet and laughed as Charles flinched away, renewed but still very much uncomfortable sparks shooting through him. Erik rolled up with far too much grace for a man who’d just fucked like he had and kissed Charles’ chest.

“I couldn’t think of a way I wouldn’t enjoy this. It’s so good. It’s so different,” he ran his hand through Charles’ hair “so perfect.”

He kissed Charles’ blushing neck and nuzzled his earlobe in ways that made Charles’s vision go a little blurry, but when he tried to reach Charles’ lips, Charles turned his head away.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to kiss you more than anything else in the world, but I really need to brush my teeth first.”

He smiled at Erik’s slightly distraught look and stroked his cheek. ‘This is ok’ he pushed at Erik ‘I’m more than ok, I loved it, I love you, this is just a technical part of something really good.’ Erik stretched out his hand and touched Charles in return, his long fingers ran along Charles’ messy but happy face and slowly he mirrored the glowing smile. He sighed, mumbled something that sounded a bit like ‘but I like kissing you no matter what too’ between their bodies as he nestled closer to Charles’ (so warm) and gave Charles a long kiss on the cheek.

With his head on Charles’ arm, lips in the nape of Charles’ neck, he said, very quietly: “Thank you. Thank you so much.”


	2. Xavierine riding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for [ this ](https://widgenstain.tumblr.com/post/140815996807/samerulesapply-dwaroxxx-try-not-to-wake-my#notes) gorgeous art by dwarroxxx.

Logan’s breath hitches as the slick, hot body sinks down on him again and squeezes him impossibly tight. The firm cheeks under his hands flex and move relentlessly and Logan’s helpless groans drown in an open mouthed kiss that feels like he’s being devoured. The little air between them is thick with pheromones and it’s as if their shared heat seeps through his skin and body, right down into his groin. 

He’s so close but he wants this to keep going, just a little while longer; wants to bury himself deeper in the solid body on top of him. The weight shifts a little and frees his hips to push up in, hard; one, two, three times. Logan’s eyes screw shut, his hands tear on the curving flesh as if to rip it apart and desperate grunts escape his throat every time their bodies meet each other. Then, when he feels like he’s going to burst at the seams that keep his mind and body together, two strong hands dive into the tufts of his hair, pull his head back with force and Logan comes. Long and hard, to the sight of big blue gleaming eyes and a devilishly grinning, bitten-red mouth. 

When the buzz dies down and he collects himself, the vision in his lap is gone. He’s on the library sofa, still dressed, with a wet spot spreading in his jeans. A few feet to his left, the professor smiles very smugly in his chair by the fireside. Logan gasps, rubs his sweaty chest and face and blinks up to the beautifully carved ceiling. When he trusts his voice again he says:

“I don’t know what this was. A trip down memory lane or you enjoying a show of me humping the air like an idiot, but either way, thank you.”

The professor’s grin is almost audible in the dim-lit room.

_"Let’s call it a shared fantasy. I fear it wasn’t realistic enough to be a memory, my arse never was this smooth in my life."_

_"It is in my memory."_

Charles grins even wider and Logan can feel his amusement bleeding through their bond. 

_"Also, who doesn’t love a show?"_

“True.” 

Logan swings up from the sofa and slowly walks to the professors’ chair. He looks so proper in his three piece suit, dignified and unruffled. But his bright eyes and the faint blush on his cheeks betray him. Logan leans down to nuzzle the curve of the bald head and take a deep breath. Charles is incredibly good, but he never gets the scent completely right, in any of his illusions. There’s something in the notes that’s missing and Logan inhales it deeply now. 

Then he carefully, very softly kisses the temple, the wrinkles around the eyes, the cheek bone… but just before Charles can turn his head into it and kiss him on the lips he pulls away. Now it’s Logan who grins at the puzzlement on Charles’ face.

“My turn,”

he says before he slowly pulls his top off, revealing the lines and plains of his body to hungry blue eyes. And sinks down to his knees.


	3. Logurt, Fuck or Die-ish mating, mpreg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a remix (additional scene in the verse) of Red's fic [ The First Season ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458918).
> 
> Please be aware that there are some additional warnings for this chapter that I didn't want to put in the main fic's tags. Basically the humans in this are horrible people and say all kinds of horrible sexist, transphobic and degrading things, so if you don't want to read that, please skip this chapter.

Kurt is miserable in his cage. The trip was long, his limbs are stiff, the Minnesotan winter kept seeping into the unheated back of their truck… They gave him some food and the smelly, overcrowded bar is warm enough to draw some of the cold from his bones, but nothing will quell the pain and anxious prickling of his early rut. He can hardly stand today never mind fight.

At least his owner seems aware of that and it _IS_ Piotr who’s scheduled to take on the bar’s champion, but from his special place in the exhibition he can tell that there still seems to be a problem. Human speak is messy, loud and obnoxious but Kurt does understand it quite well, even if they think him incapable of it. The tall, long-haired man with the ink markings who owns this place is pacing up and down gesticulating wildly around Kurt’s owner, clearly ashamed of something but trying to hide it under the sharp bellows of his voice:

“I didn’t know! I only bought him… it… two weeks ago. He was so cheap, I should’ve known!”

“We came all the way up from Texas to see that beast. You said I should bring my best and made it sound like we were getting the fight of the century. Now you’re bailing?”

“You don’t get it! He _looks_ amazing, he’s fucking strong and has some of the best powers I’ve seen in the whole thirty years I’ve been doing this… but he is not a he! It’s one of those who got a pussy!”

Flecks of saliva fly through the air as he literally spits out the last word.

“He looks male - more than your sorry ass does - with a beard and mutton chops and everything, and he has a dick, so I didn’t check too closely, but he is one of them who have a pussy too! They tricked me, they sold me a fighter but gave me a freak instead! And now it’s cramping and whining in my backroom, dripping all over the floor like a hole-y sour milk carton.”

Kurt’s owners laugh is loud and shrill.

“Ahahaha! You bought a bitch in heat! They sold you one that’s in heat. AHAHAHAHA, you’re bigger idiot than I thought you were.”

“Stop laughing you ass! I've spent so much money on advertising this fight and now I can’t give them nothing. That thing is useless! And it’s about to die judging by the way it screams.”

“No, don’t worry, they don’t die, they get fever-y, puke everywhere and are out of commission for a few weeks but they survive. It’s over much quicker when you give them a buck to fuck with.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you put them with some buck in rut and they’re ok in a minute… They wanna be pregnant. It’s in their freak DNA.”

“Oh Jesus, that thing pregnant! You should see it, it does not make sense!”

“But you could have a litter. Put them with a strong, unusual buck and you’ll have some expensive new mutants to sell. That should make up for the losses.”

“Where do I get a buck now? That thing is ready to kill anything I put with it. And I promised people a show!”

Kurt’s owner suddenly turns and looks directly at Kurt before a frightening grin blooms on his face.

“Don’t worry about that. There’s nothing that hasn’t ever been fixed by a little improvisation.”

\-----------

In the centre of the ‘arena’ a beautiful mutant is dancing, her wings shimmer in the headlights and Kurt can’t keep his eyes off the sweat that glistens on her beautiful naked skin. She isn’t in heat but Kurt still can smell her and his guts twist with a mix of need and guilt. The men in the audience do not seem to share his conflict.

They moved Kurt’s cage closer to the square where he can watch the fights, bloody, all of them, and see how the foul liquid in the men’s cups is handed out for free and in masses. They aren’t just drunk on the violence and excitement; lust is mixing in there too as they’re watching the young mutant gyrate before them. They stink of carnal desires and it doesn’t help Kurt in his situation. Nor does the new scent that slowly reaches him, deeper and richer. It's still away, hidden behind walls, but it makes him claw at his cage, curse his collar as profanely as he knows, press his face in the gaps and try to get closer to it, much to the amusement of the people around him. Then the dance finishes and the bar’s owner enters the stage accompanied by boohs and jeers. He only laughs and raises his hands.

“I know, I know, she’s a gift, isn’t she? Tightest mutant pussy you’ll find in the whole Midwest. If you’re into that thing of course. Oh I know you are, you disgusting fucks!” he laughs even louder and the men cheer around him, their breath reeking of alcohol and rot.

“But boys, not all of them can be built like this little doe. These things come in the weirdest shapes and what you’re about to see is one of the ugliest girls you’ll ever see, but it’s a girl nonetheless. A very very horny girl who's hungry for cock. So shall we give her one? A blue fork-tongued one? She might just rip him apart before they begin, poor little devil. Anyway, as the main event of tonight I give you the Blue Devil himself and his feisty fearsome demon, the very hairy Wolverella!!”

Kurt’s cage door is kicked open and rough hands shove him down in the ring. They took his loincloth, washed him a little and tied the strongest suppressor collar around his neck. He’s terrified, doesn’t know how he’s supposed to defend himself like that in a fight, but then the door to the back room opens and his ‘opponent’ is dragged out. The first thing Kurt notices is that he’s tall and not half as wrecked looking as his strong, amazing scent suggests. He’s a mutant and he’s in heat. Kurt whimpers at the sight of the body in front of him.

He’s perfect.

Broad shoulders to carry around the young, a tight stomach to protect them during gestation and long, muscled legs to run far and fast. Legs which’s insides are streaked with fluids that draw Kurt in against any caution. The mutant sways unsteadily but he still looks like he could easily defend himself against any kind of attack, even in the state he’s in.

The audience has gone quiet in confusion but then someone screams “Come on! Kill him!” “No, fuck him! Hahaha!” “What the fuck is this?!” 

Kurt is pushed and poked and he stumbles forward, eyes stuck on the beautiful mutant before him.

“What’s your name?” the mutant asks.

“… Kurt. Kurt Wagner. How do you do?”

The mutant grins and Kurt is enthralled by the confidence behind it.

“Not so good aright now, as you can probably tell. You’re in rut, Kurt. You’re up for this?”

Kurt swallows. “I don’t know you. Are you going to hurt me?”

“Why would I do that? That human screamed at me all day, I have a terrible headache and my insides are on fire. You are actually the best thing that’s happened to me in a long while.”

He slowly inches closer and Kurt’s tail whips from side to side.

“You’re young.”

“This is my seventh rut.”

The mutant hisses and sighs.

“Ever killed a man with that thing?”

“My tail?”

The mutant watches it curiously and nods.

“They put me in this cage to fight and that’s what I do. But I don’t kill.”

“You look like you could. At first glance. But it’s not in your eyes. You don't have the eyes of a killer.” Now Kurt takes a step closer.

“My talents lie elsewhere. I travel through the folds of space. I see wonders no other mutant has ever seen before. I can go places no one else will ever go. I don’t have to kill.”

“Yet you live in a cage.”

Kurt smiles.

“There is talk. Amongst the few of our kind. My cage goes places too and I listen; there’s two of us on the run, one is heavy with child. They find us and free us, I could hear one of them talk in my head the other night.”

The other mutant nods.

“I heard him too.”

Kurt can’t stop himself, he walks up to the mutant and he touches his chest. Kurt has never touched a heating mutant while he was in rut and the jolt that runs through him is pure electric pleasure.

“What is your name?”

“Logan.”

“If I help you Logan, will you come with me when they arrive?”

Logan only grins, takes his hands and takes a deep breath from his wrist’s scent point.

“What for?”

“My owner is not evil. He cares for me. But he won’t care for you or our young.”

Logan’s grin broadens and he sinks his nose in the crook of Kurt’s neck. It’s incredibly forward and intimate but Kurt can smell the potency of the slick – this isn’t Logan’s first day in heat and he lets him do as he likes. He even turns his own head, takes a deep lungful of the scent and he inevitably hardens. Carefully he licks the skin and rakes his sharp teeth over it. It’s silly and old-fashioned - not at all fitting for their situation, but Logan grunts pleased and Kurt licks and nibs some more before he properly sets his teeth on the skin. The bite isn’t strong but he can feel the mutant shiver. The skin doesn’t even fully break before it closes up again. It's beautiful.

“I can care for the young on my own when I’m free.”

“If you were free.” Kurt reaches for the mutant’s hips pulls him close.

“ARE THEY GOING TO SLOWDANCE??!!”

He can press his erection on Logan’s hot, sticky thigh like this and even this tiny bit of relief makes him moan against the mutant’s shoulder.

“If there were young.”

Now Kurt has to smile and he opens his lips to a scenting that humans always confuse with kissing. He can feel how tightly wound the mutant is despite his calm, gruff demeanor and he’s ready to help.

This is his first time with a heating mutant but not his _first_ time. He can do this. There isn’t much needed. There isn’t much here. 

A nook in a cave carefully prepared for weeks, food to feed his partner, water to wash him when he’s exhausted, his people close-by respecting the sacred act that this is, that would be the appropriate way to do this. Not in the middle of a spectacle like this. But Logan is right for him, he can feel it deep within, is sure of it like he has never been sure of anything before, and he now sees that the Creator would have led them together if they’d been free to choose as well.

It all reveals itself to him in the way Logan touches him, guides him to the floor and sinks down on him. Like this the human noises around him die down and he feels a bit of the wholeness this is meant to signify.

Logan is loose and wet, not too deep in heat to be incoherent but deep enough to take him in a quick smooth slide. Deep enough to be greedy for it as he his lifts himself up again and sinks down anew, groaning and sighing, deep from his beautiful broad chest before he repeats his motion quicker and harsher.

“So good, come on, get it.”

Something in Kurt melts and he grabs the other mutant by the hip to steady him and guide him, swaying back and forth and up and down with his movements.

Kurt never imagined it to be like this. He’s seen a heat coupling before, smelled it too, but to feel his fingertips prickle as he drives them into Logan’s muscles, to square his feet against the floor, against the hot strong body in his lap, to smell himself in the intoxicating mix of the coupling…

To push his cock into Logan.

He frees his tail, wraps it around Logan’s thigh and starts to move his hips up into the other body fast. Logan moans and steadies himself against the floor to the side of Kurt’s head.

“Keep going, make it go away.”

He’s dripping from where they are joined and he’s so hot, like a glowing vice around Kurt’s cock that milking him. Milking for their children, for a better life. Kurt moans and Logan grunts on top of him. He grinds back against his movements, his eyes are alight as he looks into Kurt’s, a happy glimmer of victory in them. Kurt can’t help the laugh, he wants to kiss him, give him floral wraiths, help him birth their children, all of it at once as he fucks up into him, his movements frantic and he finally fully gives in to the power of his rut. Logan groans and he must feel it too as his eyes close and Kurt swells, locking them together and coming, his feet helpless against the ground, his powers lost in the collar around his neck and the sensation of mating another mutant overtaking every clear thought that is left.

He hardly notices Logan lowering them to the ground, his weight on him as he pulls his own cock and comes after a few painful looking strokes. He’s too caught up in what just happened. What IS happening. He’s breeding someone. He’s ending another mutant’s heat and creating new life. He could cry at the thought and the wetness on his face tells him that he actually does. Logan’s broad hand runs through his hair, he touches his face gently and he leans in to kiss his forehead. He stays with him like that, close and safe throughout the time it takes for Kurt’s knot to go down. 

And then the human voices to come back.

There’s fighting.

Kurt is confused. He's the one in the ring. He's not fighting. Why is there fighting? Logan turns his head and grins at him. He separates them quickly, Kurt flinches at the shock, and suddenly the other mutant’s hands are on his neck. No not his neck he realises after a quick moment of panic: His collar. The metal crumbles under Logan’s hands and the security mechanism tries to sink itself into his skin but the needle and the poison only seem to be a mild annoyance to Kurt’s mate.

“How?”

“You travel through the folds of space, huh?”

He looks up into the raging and screaming crowd where the owner of the bar is dragged out, torn at and beaten bloody.

“Get out of here then, Spacetraveller!”

He smirks at Kurt, goodbye written over his heated but relieved face. He thinks Kurt would leave him like this and it almost breaks Kurt’s fast beating heart.

No, Kurt pulls his mate back close to himself.

“They call me Nightcrawler. And you’re coming with me.”


	4. Cherik, fluffy blow-job crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took me more than 2 years to put this on AO3 xD  
> For the prompt: “My dragon is acting sick and you specialize in dragon illnesses, please take a look at it. Wait, why are you laughing”

“So…”

Charles barely had time to raise his eyes from his journal to see Erik drape himself over their bed, lift his satin robe and expose his very naked self before he heard him say:

“… my dragon is acting sick lately and you’re a doctor specialised in dragon illnesses, would you please take a look at it?”

Charles just stared. 

“Excuse me, your what?”

“My mighty dragon. He’s not feeling like himself lately.”

_Ohohoho, Erik, no!_

_Come on, Charles! You always go on about how I should be more playful..._

“My dragon hasn’t seen the doctor in quite a while and I think we should change that.” 

Charles eyed Erik’s cock lying on Erik’s thigh all innocently and sweet (well…) with a lot of suspicion, so Erik leaned in to play with the buttons of Charles’ pyjama. 

The last two weeks and a half had been hectic and stressful with Charles’ academic career taking the next step, so he missed his fiancé; he missed having him around all the time, something that he foolishly had started to take for granted; he missed the buzz of Charles’ powers that he always felt in the back of his head when he was near, and he missed this: Touching Charles; the rough stubble on his chin, his beautiful plump lips that he - admittedly - still got to kiss every day and the beautiful brow that arched first and then relaxed under his administrations. 

“Well, this doctor is trying to become a professor, so he’s very busy; and really sorry for all the dragon-neglecting…”

For a moment the further course of the evening hang in the air but when Charles laid his journal to the side, Erik mentally fist-bumped.

He leaned in further to kiss the un-shaved cheek, the earlobe and down the column of Charles’ long white neck. Erik wasn’t above using his dirty tricks, so he carefully raked his teeth over the sensitive skin, whispering ‘please Charles’ against the point where his jaw met the neck. Charles gasped audibly and predictably bent into Erik’s face even more. He also started to stroke Erik’s naked chest, twisting his few chest hair absent-mindedly. 

Until:

“Well, if the dragon’s master has such compelling arguments!”

Charles all of a sudden slid out of Erik’s grasp (much to his chagrin) and down his torso (much to his delight) to talk to the dragon directly (much to… Erik wasn’t exactly sure).

_Dragon, really?_

_It’s a mighty, strong and fearsome beast._

_I will never be able to watch Dragonheart again…_

“Oh look at you poor thing, all flaccid and soft. No wonder your master is concerned.” 

Erik snorted, but it turned into a shocked grunt pretty quickly when Charles started to actually pet him like he would a gerbil. A long and thin gerbil. A lizard. A majestic lizard. Which was basically a dragon. His idea seemed silly now but it had been perfectly reasonable. 

“There there. See? The doctor only has to touch you a little and you’re immediately better.”

Charles took Erik’s cock in his left hand and carefully traced his thumb over the underside, it was a simple movement but Erik was desperate and reacted incredibly well to even the smallest touch. Charles blew on the engorged tip, pecked it sweetly and Erik reclined into his pillow with a deep sigh.

“You like it when the doctor touches you, right? Yeah, you love that, you mighty beast. Healing through regulartouching, it was a very important course at dragon med university.”

Charles tugged more determinedly and Erik melted. He had resigned himself to quick, lonely wanks in the shower until Charles’ defence was done, so this was more than great already. He gave himself over to the warm, sure hand, Charles’ weight on his legs, and Charles’ mellow voice that he loved, no matter how silly the game it was caught up in sounded.

“You like it even better when the doctor takes you up his hot, tight cave of wonders.”

“Pppfffrrrtt!! Oh G-d, why?!”

Charles cackled evilly and Erik groaned, wishing that he could un-hear _that_. Alas.

_We can do anal if you want to, but I’m not keeping this act up during, Charles._

_Nah, I’m sorry, darling, I’m really not in the mood for the hassle. Unless you want to bottom?_

_Can’t. You know Ruth cooks for 6 even if we’re only 3, and there was a lot of raw onion involved. I don’t want to repeat the disaster from Saint Patrick’s Day._

Charles snorted into Erik’s abs and Erik heard a ‘I thought it was hot’ in the back of his head just before Charles began to nuzzle the soft skin of the barely-there gut. He kissed and licked it, breathed in deeply (‘missed this’), while he lazily worked his fingers over the growing dragon. He nipped his way down to Erik’s coarse hair, his balls, and almost innocently pecked the base of his cock before he looked up at Erik and slowly extended his tongue towards it. 

Erik’s fingers started to restlessly work in the sheets and his eyes lost themselves in Charles’ blues. 

“But the doctor knows what your favourite is. What will make you feel all good again. Even if it’s going to ruin your master a little.” 

And with that Charles obscenely licked the underside of Erik’s shaft and swallowed him down. 

Erik didn’t know how or why Charles was so good at this - didn’t want to know, to be honest – ‘told you, dragon med _university_ ‘, but Charles’s quick sucks, greedy slides and ridiculously tolerant gag reflex always, ALWAYS reduced Erik to a shivering mess. It took him maybe a minute before he tried to buck up desperately, but Charles, the monster, pulled back. He pinched Erik’s thighs as a warning, but before his yowl had faded, Charles opened his mouth over the red tip again, circling it in the most delicious, teasing ways, while he massaged him with his left hand. Then the pulls became rougher and quicker and… Erik could make it last, most of the time, but after their dry-spell he was a hopeless case. 

A forceful suck to the tip, a strong hand on his balls and he came with an embarrassingly needy moan that rattled through him from skull to toes. 

He panted and gasped when Charles crawled up the bed to kiss him - his perfect mouth tasted very much like cock (Erik’s cock!) - and all Erik could stammer was ‘thank you’ over and over again. Then Charles threw his leg over him to snuggle closer and kiss his face, and something hot and thick rubbed against Erik’s side. 

Charles burrowed his face in Erik’s neck and a second after he could feel the grin blooming against his skin, Erik heard the sexiest raspy voice say _that_ : 

“I think there’s a basilisk on the loose, counsellor. We’ll need a good oral negotiator to trap him. Are you up for the task?”


	5. genderbent!Erik mile high club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise to my remixer for adding something while the challenge is going on but I _really_ wanted to finally upload this. Soooorryyyy! 
> 
> Also there was a reason at one point why Erik is Erika in this but I cut the fic short and the reason was lost.

Charles Xavier is a kind man, even when he thinks he is not. It’s what has drawn Erika to him ten years ago and it’s what draws her to him now.

Some things have changed: ten years ago it was the novelty of meeting such man, a mutant, who wasn't anything like the men she’d known before; all of them fleeting acquaintances, who had desired her and been useful to her in one way or the other. And the men before that, before she’d freed herself, at the camp, monsters who called her sickeningly sweet names, beautiful, a princess, and a filthy Jewish whore in the same sentence. They are all dead now, buried in shallow graves and deep brooks.

Then Charles Xavier came around and everything was different. He was a short, cocky brat, too naïve for his own good, but he saw who she was and what had shaped her, and he wasn't afraid. Instead he was kind to her and loved her, truly loved her, until their ideologies grew irrevocably apart.

Today Charles doesn't love her, not any more. He’s become a cynic who has abandoned his ideals, he abandoned all of them, including himself. He gave up his powers, for what? So he could walk?!

Erika knows this isn't true before she says it, screams it at him, but it’s out there and when he answers, she finally sees how hurt Charles really is. She hurts too. She did this, parts of it at least, and while guilt is too strong of a word, she still seeks him out on the sofa to ease away this heavy feeling in her chest.  
He doesn't move when she sits down next to him but flinches when she touches him. For a second it looks like he wants to draw his arm away and Erika would have let him, even if it had destroyed her.

Charles might not love her any more, but she does love him. She always has and while the words would never cross her lips and she tries to keep her fingers from telling him, she can’t quite stop touching him. He’s thinner, older – aren’t they all – and there’s resentment in his eyes she wishes was never directed at her.  
Yet he stays still and lets her touch him, and when he closes his eyes when she reaches his cheek, he leans in, just the tiniest bit. 

This is when Erika knows she’s doing the right thing. She comes closer, feels the warmth of his body on hers and stays, stays so close she can feel his breath on her. When he opens his eyes again the resentment is there, but without its edge. He looks lost and torn, as if he’d hoped she’d have answers for him, but she didn't.

Erika wishes she could make this go away; wishes it so hard she could cry. 

Instead she kisses him. He gasps but doesn't jerk back, he just stares at her with confused, conflicted eyes. When she kisses him again, he slowly kisses her back, then, when her fingers wander into his long, so much longer than before hair, an urgency mixes in that releases a sigh from deep within Erika.

She’d wanted this for so long. To feel his skin on hers, any contact really, she’d needed it and this was the best kind, to feel his face search for hers with such intense longing, just like she’d felt it all those years in that fakakta prison. She shivers and moans into it, can’t help it, and something breaks in Charles.  
He grabs her by the back of her head, the kiss turns ferocious and spills over her lips, down her neck. His beard is coarse on her skin, scratches her, yet it couldn't be better. 

She needs more, so when he impatiently shoves his hand underneath her blouse, she opens it for him. Erika never was a curvy woman, age didn't change that, but Charles never cared and she screams when he sucks and bites at her.

“Shhhh! Be quiet…”

“Wait, wait…”

The resentment still isn't gone, it probably never will be, but there’s something wild and desperate in Charles’ eyes too and it’s enough for Erika. She seals Hank and Logan in the cockpit, shoves down her skirt and pantihose, everything and lies back on the armrest, her gaze never leaving Charles.

For a moment he just gapes. Stares at her naked body with wonder and with more and more primal lust filling in (but Erika doesn't feel exposed, never has with Charles) when he suddenly can’t get his belt off fast enough.

It hurts; of course it does, there wasn't much opportunity for this at her prison, she needed a bit more time, but Erika relishes it. Pain never meant much to her, except that this one does, this is a pain she welcomes. She cries out and holds on to the backrest as Charles pushes in and finds a hard and fast rhythm.  
His eyes are closed again, his face turned away and his hips move as if he wants to punish her. But he can’t; not like this, not with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his warm weight pressing her into the sofa where she’s safe and his brutal thrusts bringing her closer to him than she has been in many years.

Charles Xavier is a kind man, even when he thinks he is not.

And he’s kind to Erika even if it doesn't look like it. If Charles still had his powers he’d know, but even now there is some awareness. He pants, opens his eyes to look into hers. Sadness, anger and pain flicker over his face in quick successions, so Erika takes him in her hands and holds him as he keeps pounding into her. She closes her eyes and lets it all wash over her, gives her body over to his emotions like she did when he still had his powers and he still loved her.

He makes a broken sound somewhere between a hiccup and a moan, shoves her hips up with his and pushes her shoulders down, bends her into a tight shape before he continues to fuck into her with a pitiless pace.

Erika can’t really tell when it has stopped being uncomfortable and has become so good, but right now it feels like the best thing in the world and she can’t hold in her gasps. It’s so intense and visceral, she needed this, so much! She sucks her lip in but the moans keep coming louder and louder until Charles puts his hand over her mouth to quiet her. His warm, sturdy, gentle, careful-not-to-hurt-her hand. She cries into it, her pelvis draws tight and she comes, hard and with convulsions so deep they shake the hull of the jet.

Charles doesn't even seem to notice. He looks wrecked above her when she opens her eyes, tears are forming in his and he’s moving his lips as if to say something. Erika doesn't want to hear it yet, it doesn't matter, not yet, not now! She puts her hand on Charles’ mouth, squeezes around him and pulls the orgasm out of him. He pants, shakes, groans as if in pain and comes for a long time.

Erika holds him tight throughout and wishes nothing more than to be kissed. She doesn't dare to ask, shy for once in her life. Charles collapses on top of her, he isn't heavy, his body is hot from the exertion and he grounds her with his weight and the feel of his skin on hers. This has to be enough.

They lie like this for a stretch of time. Erika hopes it never ends but it does, as all good things must.

Charles doesn't look at her when he pulls out or when he hastily puts himself back in his trousers. His face is red, some of it has to be shame and a heavy weight grows in Erika’s stomach. Of course it has to end like this. What did she expect? This wasn't meant to be anything of substance. Just an instant of trying to hold onto something long lost in the face of evil.

She can feel him leak out of her, adding to the mess she made on the sofa, and for a short moment she panics. She didn't get her period regularly in prison and she might be too old already anyway, but this is not the moment nor the place, not with where they are going…

Charles’ hand is on her calf. He’s still on the sofa with her, he still doesn't look at her but he holds her calf and sighs. He strokes it gently down to the ankle, around which he can’t close his fingers and up again. His eyes follow the lines of her body, the lust is gone and a softness has spread in them instead. It isn't even close to how he used to look at her, but it’s there. 

He leans in and kisses her right knee. It’s awkward and Erika wishes he had his powers, so she could ask him quietly, show him too, but for now he kisses her knee again and rests his face against it. 

Then he gets up to the bathroom and leaves her on the sofa to sort herself out. They’ll be in Paris soon. The world is hanging on a thread and they’ll have to face difficult decisions soon enough. Erika closes her eyes, pulls her knee tight to her chest and smiles.


End file.
